


Electric Kisses

by AdventTraitor



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Djinn Equip, M/M, Sinja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventTraitor/pseuds/AdventTraitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering a hidden fantasy that has been lurking within his general, Sinbad decides to make it a reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electric Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This is just one giant pile of sin. Like I'm going to hell sin. X'D I'm glad I was finally able to finish something. Please bear with me as I deal with intense exhaustion due to various medical reasons--I'm hoping to get more written soon. Until then, enjoy this!! ;)

It was a kiss that woke him.  Well, kiss _es_ —plural.  Ja’far mumbled something and shifted as if to get away from the touch, but he didn’t really mind.  It was just a natural reaction to reject Sinbad’s advances, lest he get used to it and refuse to do his work without _incentive_.

 

A hand on his stomach pulled him back to a broad chest, a warmth that was most certainly welcome in the cool hours of early morning.  Though he hadn’t yet opened his eyes, Ja’far could tell that the sun had only begun its journey across the sky, and the mouth on his shoulder, moving up to his neck was good…but that didn’t change the fact that there was work to be done.

 

Ja’far yawned, stretching his entire body and lifting his arms above his head to disrupt Sinbad’s gentle suggestion.  After a soft sigh, he pushed himself up to sit, just managing not to make a face at the ache he felt from Sinbad’s rather enthusiastic form the night before.  It was kind of a nice reminder…but again, that was something he couldn’t tell his king—he’d never escape his bed.

 

“Stay,” was the husky mumble from behind him, feeling Sinbad’s fingertips brushing at the base of his spine.  Ja’far suppressed a shiver, barely.

 

“If I don’t work, who will?” he murmured in response, his back arching away from his king’s reaching hand.  “You certainly won’t.  You won’t meet your quota, anyway…so I have to pick up the slack.”  He glanced back over his shoulder, taking in the sight of tanned skin and golden eyes and mussed violet hair spread across the sheets, and had to bite the inside of his lip before continuing.  “Perhaps if I had less work, I’d have more… _leisure_ time.”

 

Sinbad let out a rumble that was perhaps a groan, but Ja’far faced forward once more.  “Or perhaps I just need to convince you of the advantages to staying in my bed for a day,” he countered with a lazy grin.  Silently, he counted the freckles he could see on Ja’far’s back and shoulders, losing his place at twenty-four when his advisor answered.

 

“Even if there was something I _wanted_ , you haven’t addressed the fact that there is still work to be done.”  Ja’far moved to stand, rolling his head to the side to get the stiffness from his neck.

 

Sinbad perked up.  That _wording_ …everything Ja’far said and did had a _purpose_ , and Sinbad would be an awful friend, lover and king if he hadn’t picked up on all of Ja’far’s little quirks by now.  He rolled onto his stomach, lifting up onto his elbows and moved until he was facing his general’s back.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

 

Ja’far was a little taken aback, and he glanced over his shoulder again.  “I want for nothing…” he started, though his tone was less than convincing.

 

Amber eyes were flashing with interest as Sinbad pulled himself forward, his arms wrapping around Ja’far’s waist from behind.  “It’s a crime to lie to a king, you know,” he breathed into Ja’far’s ear, leaving a kiss as his hands smoothed over pale skin, counting the ribs they encountered.

 

Ja’far let out an uncomfortable hum before he stood suddenly, nearly forcing his king to tumble from the bed as he moved to grab at his robes and quickly put his arms through the sleeves so that he was covered from any unseemly stares.

 

“Perhaps…there _is_ something I’ve thought of, but it’s nothing I should say out loud; I would most certainly die.  And even were I to say it, you would no doubt think of a way to _try_ and then you would find yourself less one general—and how would the work get done then?” he answered quickly, his face heating up even as he thought of it.  Best to make a quick retreat, or Sinbad would tie him down and exploit every weakness he’d found over the years to tease the secret out of him.

 

Well, now he _had_ to know.

 

Ja’far was fast, but Sinbad could move faster when he was motivated.  Before Ja’far even had a hand on the door, Sinbad had a hand on his throat.  He knew Ja’far’s eyes would be wide, could feel his pulse quicken beneath his fingers, and reveled in the control he had over such a powerful force in these situations.

 

Like an animal being hunted, Ja’far stilled in the presence of the predator.  His breathing was fast, but he remained silent, waiting for the next move.  Sinbad never hurt him—this wasn’t a threat, but a game.  Ja’far had to be careful, however, from getting too caught up in the fun…he’d been forced to spend a day or two away from work in the past due to the inability to walk properly.

 

Sinbad cocked his head, and after a moment leaned down to once more speak into Ja’far’s ear.

 

“Tell me.”  It was a simple, quiet command, but the tension in his voice was…electric.

 

Ja’far swallowed.

 

“I...” he started, his voice shaking—was it excitement, or anxiety?  Perhaps both.  These games played strange tricks on his mind and his body.

 

Sinbad’s other hand ghosted down his side to his thigh, pulling up the robes to touch his skin.  Goosebumps were raised quickly, and Ja’far had to swallow to keep from making a compromising noise.  The hand on that pale throat flexed—not quite squeezing, but a serving as a reminder of the command that had been issued.

 

Ja’far grit his teeth and let out an anxious noise before he answered in a rush.  “Sometimes I think about what it would feel like if you were in a djinn equip okay?” he squeaked, his whole body tensed, face flushing as he admitted a fantasy he had been _certain_ he’d take to the grave.

 

Now… _that_ …was not what he expected.  Sinbad blinked, then had to suppress a laugh, not wanting to belittle Ja’far’s desires in the least.  It was just so…so _unexpected_ , Sinbad didn’t even have a response for a few moments.

 

But it did sound _fun._

 

“…I can only keep an equip for…ten minutes, maybe,” he answered slowly, thoughtfully.  “But that’s enough time, I think.”  A thousand thoughts were moving through his mind at the same time—the mechanics of exactly _how_ , the power he would have to stifle, the people that would undoubtedly come running from the sudden surge of rukh and magic—best leave that one unsaid, or Ja’far might panic.  In the end, it was _possible_ , and now that the idea was there in his mind, Sinbad _wanted it._

 

Ja’far tensed under his grasp, turning to face him with alarm in his expression.  “What—no, that’s a terrible idea!” he sputtered.  “It’s just…something I’ve _thought of_ , it’s not something that’s actually supposed to be done!”  His face was hot, and seeing Sinbad standing so close, with his eyes so intense, Ja’far instinctively tried to make himself smaller, shying away for a few inches before his back hit the door.

 

Sinbad’s hand shot out, circled around the other’s small wrist and pulled him back into his chest, throwing his robes back to the ground and lifting him easily.  “It can be done,” he continued, ignoring Ja’far’s protests—he could tell when the other truly didn’t want something, and this was obviously a desire he’d been keeping secret for quite some time…and besides, he could feel Ja’far’s _interest_ pressing against his own stomach.  “Baal would be best, I think, you being of his household and all.  I can control myself…mostly…” he trailed off, dumping Ja’far back on the bed and reaching for his sword.

 

“Sin—“ Ja’far started, a look of true worry in his eyes.

 

Sinbad moved his hand to Ja’far’s chin instead, moving close to give him a long, deep kiss that had the other melting into the sheets before he pulled away.  He only moved a few inches back, enough to make good eye contact before he spoke.  “What kind of king would I be if I couldn’t make my general’s wildest fantasies come true?” he laughed lowly.  “I can make you feel amazing.”  It was said not as a boast, but as a promise.

 

Ja’far swallowed, heat washing over him in waves as his king loomed over him.  “I know,” he answered softly.  “I just—won’t that…insult him, or something?” he asked uncomfortably, glancing at the metal vessels resting only a few feet away.  “And don’t you have to keep hold of your sword?  Your _actual_ sword, don’t make that into an innuendo.”

 

Sinbad pouted, his mouth opened to make a perverted response before he was cut off.  “Fine.  And no, I don’t, actually.  It’s more difficult to keep an equip without direct contact, but it’s still possible if the vessel is nearby.  I’ve trained myself to keep a djinn equipped in that way just in case a metal vessel gets knocked out of my grasp or something.  As for Baal, I don’t think he will particularly care.”  He leaned down for another kiss, making sure to leave no part of Ja’far’s mouth untouched.  He pushed himself up, looking into dark gray eyes and searching them for doubt.  “Trust me.”

 

“I do,” was the immediate response.  “I…fine,” he huffed.  He watched Sinbad move to grab for his sword, not bothering to remove it from its sheath as he set it next to them.  Calloused hands gently pushed Ja’far onto his back, and Sinbad lay comfortably on top of him. 

 

Ja’far spread his thighs wide, letting his king’s hips settle between them before he attempted to close them again, his scarred legs instinctively wrapping around Sinbad’s waist.  His arms fell over broad shoulders, fingers tangling into the violet strands cascading around him as he let himself relax into the bed, his back arched, head thrown back.

 

What a sight…an unbelievable, beautiful sight.  Sinbad took in the man beneath him for a moment, before fastening his mouth to that perfectly arched throat, one hand reaching to the lamp beside the bed and dipping his fingers in the oil beneath the burner.

 

Sinbad hummed softly, rubbing his fingers together for a moment before reaching down beneath them both, circling around his prize but not entering just yet.  “You have to tell me if I hurt you,” Sinbad growled into his throat, before biting down and suckling a bruise to the surface of that pale, freckled skin.

 

His breath was coming in gasps at this point, hating the tease as much as he loved it.  “…Like it…when it hurts,” he admitted, his eyes clenched shut as his body tensed.  “Don’t tease,” he added after a moment.

 

Sinbad laughed softly, moving to the sweet juncture between his neck and shoulder, and making a new bruise there.  He pressed a slick finger in, moaning softly at the thought of being buried in that heat squeezing so tightly around just a finger.  “Yeah, you do…but I mean, in a bad way.”  This had the potential to be dangerous, but Sinbad was confident in his skills.  Even so, reassurance that Ja’far would speak up if it got out of hand made him feel better.

 

“Kay,” was the soft response, followed by a breathy moan as another finger joined the first.  Sinbad was already hard, his cock grinding slowly against a soft thigh as he took his time preparing his general.

 

Once Ja’far’s hips began thrusting into his motions, trying to get him deeper, Sinbad shuddered and pulled his hand away, dipping into the oil once more and smoothing over himself, taking a few long pulls over the hardened flesh before letting out a shaky breath through his nose.  He raised himself to his hands and knees, looming over Ja’far and taking in the sight of him before letting one hand wander to his vessel, touching the hilt of his sword lightly.

 

Once last kiss to the side of Ja’far’s throat, and Sinbad whispered the words he’d said so many times before, had shouted in the face of his enemies, words that always caused the blood in his veins to boil.

 

“Dwell in my body…Baal.”

 

Sinbad shuddered as the electricity shot through his veins, the armor materialized around his limbs, and the weight of his tail slithering from side to side on the sheets.  He heard Ja’far’s sharp intake of breath, and looked down at him in response.  His eyes were wide and wanting, his hands tracing down over the smooth scales of the armor on his shoulders, down his chest and to the belt that had formed with the rest of the equip, pushing at the skirt to get their skin back in contact.

 

He let go of the sword, though he pulled it over so it was barely touching Ja’far’s side, keeping some semblance of a connection by proxy, and all thoughts of anything but _Ja’far_ left his mind.  Sinbad pushed his skirt out of the way, his tail wrapping around one of Ja’far’s legs instinctively as he pressed inside, having to work just to get the head in.

 

He leaned down, careful of his sharpened claws, and breathed into his general’s ear.  “Relax,” he rumbled, continuing to press in despite the resistance.  Ja’far was letting out soft keening noises, his hands tangled in his now azure colored hair.

 

“Trying—“ was his only response, before another high pitched moan took his voice.

 

Sinbad’s entire body was tense, his form shaking with restraint as he forced himself to keep from moving.  He glanced down, watching small shocks of electricity pass between their skin, and over near the top of the bed where red wires were sticking out from beneath one of the many pillows.  A sigh brought his attention back to Ja’far’s face, the freckles on his cheeks exaggerated by the flush that covered them.

 

“You don’t have to hold back,” Ja’far breathed, his arms falling back so that his hands rested above his head—a submissive gesture, one that was infinitely pleasing for Sinbad to watch.

 

He snorted, shoving in the rest of the way and letting his head fall back with a heavy breath at the sensation, drinking it in when Ja’far cried out.  “…Yes, I do,” was the labored response, golden eyes flashing as he sat up on his knees, Ja’far’s back forced into an arch as Sinbad kept them connected.  “But that doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.”  He started a quick pace, watching his claws dig into the pale skin of Ja’far’s hips, the motion of his body being pushed up on the bed with every thrust…it was perfect.

 

Ja’far couldn’t think past the sensation, the electricity between them—  Unwittingly, he grabbed Baal’s sword and kept ahold of it, his knuckles white around the handle.  A hum of energy ran through him, and he heard Sinbad groan before snapping his hips harder.  Ja’far’s shrieks echoed slightly through the room, a melody Sinbad reveled in before he pressed in completely and paused, his eyes opening to look down at his lover with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

Ja’far was gasping, his eyes fluttering open at the lack of motion.  There was a glassy confusion in his face for a moment, before an angry glare took over.

 

 _“Don’t,”_ he growled, through it was difficult for Sinbad to take him seriously while his breath was labored, cheeks flushed.  “Sinbad, _I’m warning you_ ,”he panted out.

 

Sinbad merely gave a hum before he began to roll his hips hard, keeping himself fully seated within Ja’far.  His claws dug what must have been painfully into pale flesh, a constant pull keeping him from pulling out even an inch.

 

Ja’far whined loudly, squirming and trying to push away unsuccessfully.  “Ah, hah, ah, I _hate_ this, stop—“ he moaned pitifully, digging his heels into the sheets to try and gain _some_ kind of leverage to escape the overwhelming sensation.

 

“I can tell,” Sinbad rumbled with a smirk, lidded eyes taking in the sight of the other’s dripping erection.

 

Ja’far tried to keep his eyes open as much as he could—the scales, the gold of the headpiece on his king’s forehead, the necklaces that bounced off of his toned chest with every movement of his hips…it would be ingrained in his memory for as long as he lived.  The thought made him tense, his hands scrabbling up to the scaled armor of Sinbad’s shoulders as he came hard, a breathy cry leaving him as it left him explosively.

 

Sinbad let his head loll back at the squeeze around him, his tail swishing back and forth across the sheets behind him.  Biting down on his own lip, he pulled out when Ja’far finished, his cock still eager as he took a few breaths just to watch Ja’far in sated relaxation—something that would never happen often enough.

 

Once he opened his gray eyes, his kiss-swollen lips still parted in a desperate attempt for air, Sinbad pushed him until he was on his belly.  Ja’far reached a hand out for the sword again, and pulled it underneath him as Sinbad settled him on his knees and elbows—one of their favorite positions.  Sinbad eyed Ja’far’s loose hole, a thumb running up the crevice of his ass to pull at the skin to the side of it, stretching the muscle slightly.  A delicious anticipation ran through him as he lined himself up once more, and watched his cock sink in slowly this time, inch by inch until his was fully seated again.

 

Ja’far’s soft keening was enough to take away the last of his inhibitions—and he could feel the magoi in him running low.  It was time to finish, and whether he intended it or not, Ja’far wasn’t going to be walking for the next week.

 

Sinbad started pounding into him, all caution thrown to the wind as he enjoyed the heat, the tightness around him.  Ja’far’s muffled cries were secondary, even as he was pushed further and further up the bed from the force of his thrusts until Sinbad had to drag him back, continuing until he let out a hiss, releasing into Ja’far until his seed was dripping down his thighs from around his cock.

 

Not a moment later did the Djinn Equip vanish, his hair returning to its violet hue even as he fell on top of Ja’far, exhausted in more ways than one.

 

Ja’far grunted, but made no move to shake Sinbad off—he was still breathing hard, probably somewhat delirious by now.  After a few moments to cool down, Sinbad pulled out and rolled Ja’far to his back, pulling the sword from his grasp with some effort and laying it to the side before pulling him into an embrace, nuzzling down into snowy hair.

 

“Bath later…sleep.  Sleep now,” he mumbled, already halfway there.

 

“Good,” Ja’far whispered.  “So good…” before he let himself fall asleep once more, the sun beginning to shine over the ocean as he did.


End file.
